


A Glance at the Past (In Our Journey to the Future)

by OTPshipper98



Series: Harry Potter in English [47]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (If you do not like body hair this fic is not for you! There's lots of it), (Look this is the first time I write rimming and I just wanted it to be safe), (So I made up the magical version of a dental dam), (sort of), A tinge of Angst that won't even hurt you because Harry and Draco love each other too much, AH YES, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Bickering, Blow Jobs, Body Hair, Butt Plugs, Cleaning Charms, Engaged Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Fluff, LITERALLY, Lucius and Narcissa are bad parents, M/M, Mutual Fucking, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Sex in Draco's childhood bedroom, The Plug is very much magical and Harry can control it with his mind, in conclusion THEY FUCK AND THEY'RE IN LOVE, protection charms, that's how you know Draco is completely fucked, what else...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 23:30:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20479268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPshipper98/pseuds/OTPshipper98
Summary: It's Christmas Eve. It's also Lucius and Narcissa's last chance to accept Draco and Harry's relationship before they stop trying to make the Malfoys come around and move on with their lives.Draco also happens to have a plug up his arse. One that Harry can control with his mind.





	A Glance at the Past (In Our Journey to the Future)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Draco + butt plug + dinner with his parents", sent by anon on Tumblr. Please check the tags before reading.
> 
> Omg this was so much fun to write! It was my first time writing butt plugs and rimming, and I also used this prompt to practice the flashback/present/flashback style, which I'd love to use again 😍
> 
> I also wanna point out that while Lucius and Narcissa are depicted as bad parents because they cling to their pureblood traditions and not due to homophobia, their words _could_ be read as homophobia, since they don't accept Draco and Harry's marriage. Please read with care if you're sensitive to this topic :)
> 
> Beta'd by Keyflight790 💕

It was moving.

His mother asked him, in a tone that almost made it seem like she actually cared, how his latest project was going, and Draco talked of Acromantula blood; of the sorrel that he’d kept in an oak bowl filled with Phoenix tears for almost a month now. His father and mother nodded dutifully, their eyes carefully set on their supper. 

The plug moved inside him, slowly. Almost imperceptibly. 

_ “I don’t want to keep doing this,” Draco murmured. “I don’t want to keep pretending everything’s normal between them and us when it’s not. Can’t we just”—he snuggled closer to Harry, pressing his curled fists against Harry’s warm, bare chest—“stay here all day, just you and I?” _

_ Enveloped by the scent of Harry, of the hearth and his windowsill plants—by their soft, snuggly blankets—the last thing Draco wanted was to move. Harry had just blown him, slowly, sweetly, and his hands had caressed Draco’s thighs with a gentle possessiveness that had left him feeling shaky, feeling vulnerable. Feeling known—worshipped—loved. Still shivering under Harry’s touch, Draco almost regretted breaking the silence. But the thoughts of the Christmas dinner ahead of them had inevitably wormed their way back into his mind, and he knew they’d have to leave their bed soon to get ready for another awkward, tedious evening with his parents. _

_ Harry held him closer by the waist, their already entangled legs coming closer together. _

_“They’re your family, love,” he whispered. “And I know you don’t want to lose them.” _

_Draco just scowled and nuzzled Harry’s cheek with a groan. Harry held Draco’s head back and smiled at him—that stupid, unfairly captivating smile of his_.

“_Hey, what if we make it interesting?” _

_ “I don’t know if I like the glint on those devilish eyes of yours, Harry Potter,” Draco warned him, smiling despite his efforts, struggling not to kiss the crinkles on the corners of those infuriating eyes. _

_ “You always complain about how awkward it is around them.” Harry traced the line of Draco’s spine with a delicate touch, as though each bump was a sculpture, a remnant from an unknown past, and he, the digger lucky enough to learn the shape of it with his fingers. “We could…we could try to use the awkwardness in our favour. Turn it into our game.” _

A particularly strong twitch had Draco dropping his eyes to his plate, choking on a breath. He coughed to mask it, then drank a gulp of water to steady himself. 

They’d have, as always, a three-course meal. This was only the salad. Two more courses to go.

Harry rested a hand on his knee; tapped it once. _ Is this still okay? _ he was asking him. Draco slowly rested his serviette on the mantel and slipped his hand under the table. He tapped Harry’s knuckles once. _ Yes_.

Another twitch right against his prostate.

“And how is the whole…” his father gestured about, fork in hand, eyes still not meeting Draco or Harry. “_Canine _ issue going?”

“That canine issue you’re talking about is my godson, Lucius,” Harry said calmly, putting his hand back on the table. “Please refer to him as such. He’s doing well. Stays with Bill every full moon, now—we’ve realised that he’s much more relaxed if he can smell other wolves around him.”

“Very well,” his father said with a forced smile that didn’t hide the displeasure in his tone—the mild disgust Draco knew so well pulling at his features. “I assume, then, that the…” His gaze slipped down to Draco’s left hand. To the silver ring that sat perfectly on Draco’s finger, its aquamarine stone glinting under the light of the candles. 

Just as a pang of indignation grew in Draco’s chest, the neck of the plug started to vibrate. Draco inhaled softly, trying to keep the heat from rising through his body. “Yes, father.” He picked up his glass to take another cooling sip of his drink, but did so with his left hand so his father would think he was flaunting the ring. It wasn’t the first time he did it, anyway. He hadn’t waited so long for Harry to mark him a happy man to be subtle about it. “The wedding is still going on.”

The reason his father had asked, Draco knew, was that they had been engaged for over a year, but they’d been waiting to organise the wedding. Waiting for Teddy to get more stable, mainly. But also for his parents to finally decide Draco was more important to them than their ancient pureblood traditions. 

Not that he had much hope that’d ever happen. 

Still vibrating, the neck of the plug started to turn, drawing slow circles on the inside of Draco’s rim. Circles that were wide enough to gently stretch him—to send spike after spike of pleasure to his already half-hard cock. 

He wondered if his parents would realise if he rolled up his sleeves. They probably would—they’d chastised him as a kid for doing it, said it was an ‘indecent look’. But Merlin, he was hot. He could feel a few drops of sweat accumulating at his nape, at the base of his spine. And when, still turning and vibrating, the plug gave another twitch, Draco had to cough again to hide his sharp intake of air. 

Salazar. Just how far was Harry planning on going?

Just as two house elves took care of their plates and brought the main course to the table, Harry tapped his hand again. Draco faltered for a moment. He was getting dangerously aroused, but…but the rage, the humiliation at his parents not even _ caring _ about his happiness or his growth as a person, not even—willing to _ respect _ him or his soon-to-be-husband; all those feelings felt like they were…eclipsed, that night. Every movement of the plug, every moment it remained still, were a reminder of how deeply, how confidently Harry knew his body by now—what he liked, when, and how he liked it. It wasn’t just arousing, maddening, _ embarrassing_, it was—comforting. It was an _ ‘I’m here’_. A promise of what he’d have when the night was over. 

Besides, he didn’t blush that easily. And it wasn’t like his parents were raising their eyes from their dishes.

He tapped Harry’s hand once. 

_ “Hey. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” _

_ Draco rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly at the worry suddenly painting Harry’s beautiful features. He brought a hand to the one caressing his cheek, let their fingers entwine while Harry traced the curve of his cheekbone with a knuckle. “Idiot. I know you’re not trying to force me.” He closed his eyes when Harry slipped that hand into his hair. “I know I’m the one who said I wanted to give them a chance, and then another one, and then—another one, just in case. I still want to…I still want to try. They’re just so exhausting.” _

_ A soft kiss to the tip of his nose. “I know.” _

_ Draco took a second to kiss Harry on the lips. To inhale his warm scent, to marvel at the fact that this man was his, and this was his life. _

_ His problems felt so much more distant when he was in Harry’s arms. _

_ “Shall we do it, then?” he finally asked. _

_ Harry nodded. “Let’s do this.” _

“Have you already decided on a place?” his mother filled in the silence after a few moments.

“Not yet,” Harry replied for him. “We’re considering the Scottish highlands, but I’ve also been thinking about contacting the church where my parents got married.”

A clattering sound made them all turn to Lucius. Heʼd dropped his fork and knife, and was piercing his plate with a venomous stare that he quickly turned to Harry. To Draco. 

“A Muggle _ Church_?”

“That’s what I said, yes.” Sensing the shift of mood in the room, Harry tuned down the movements of the plug until all Draco could feel was a low, almost imperceptible vibration. Draco gripped his cutlery and forced himself to breathe. He wasn’t alone. Harry had his back. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t—” His father stuttered for words. “Y-You can’t possibly _ expect me _ to—Draco, son, I—this can’t be serious. No.” He stood up, pushing his chair back with a screeching sound. “I won’t stand for this. I won’t stand for my only son to—ditch every single tradition and perform some—some _ Muggle_—” 

“Lucius,” Dracoʼs mother said calmly. Her tone perfectly neutral. Her pose perfectly composed. “You will sit down, and we will peacefully finish this dinner.” 

Dracoʼs blood boiled at the fact she didn’t ask that Lucius respect their son. That all she wanted was table etiquette and to maintain the facade of a happy family when—when the fact she disapproved of Dracoʼs and Harryʼs entire relationship was clear as water in her every movement.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to leave. He wanted to bury himself in Harry and cry out of frustration. He wanted to be so fucking happy that his parents would have to live with the knowledge _ they _were the only ones keeping themselves miserable. 

Instead, he had to breathe through a shiver of pleasure when the plug started relentlessly twitching close enough to his prostate to keep him on edge, if not to hurt him. He inhaled slowly, concentrating on keeping a neutral expression, and by the time the arousal ebbed heʼd lost track of what heʼd meant to say. His father had sat down and picked up his cutlery again, his mother had her gaze fixed on her dish again, and Harry was caressing his leg, softly squeezing his knee in a comforting gesture. 

_ “This one’s the one I had in mind.” _

_ They hadn’t tried that plug yet. They’d randomly bought it on a trip to Blaise’s sex shop, intrigued about the way it was meant to be easily controlled even without your wand in hand once you’d cast the spell to activate it. _

_ Even though Harry had blown him just a few hours before, Draco’s body seemed to awaken at the sight of the curved shape of it. _

_ He looked up. _

_ “Well? Are you planning on putting it in today?” _

_ Harry smiled. “Turn around.” _

_ When Draco complied with an admittedly flustered grumble, Harry casually grabbed one of his arse cheeks over his robes and started caressing it, raking his fingers over the edge of Draco’s thigh, ghosting them over his cleft. He set the plug on the table beside them and pointed his wand at it. When he cast the spell to activate it, Draco waited, sensitive and frayed and on edge. _

_ A moment later, the curved head of it twitched. _

_ Humming, Harry stepped closer and pulled up Draco’s robes. He kept fondling his arse under the robes, and after a few moments under Draco’s pants, too, slipping both hands inside and pushing them down. He spread Draco’s cheeks, and as his fingers raked over Draco’s cleft again, he pressed a kiss to the jut of Draco’s spine and whispered in his ear, “Wet them for me.” _

_ Draco, knees weak, scrambled for his wand and cast a lubrication charm on the fingers timidly brushing his rim. He felt the cold wetness there, and a little whimper escaped him when Harry pressed one pad against his arsehole. Not pushing in, just—resting it there and twitching it ever so slightly. _

_ Draco pressed back—spread his legs wider so as not to fall when Harry spread the lube over his rim, pressing both thumbs to the sides of it and pushing down a bit, outwards a bit, carefully stretching the wrinkled skin there. _

_ Draco moaned; shivered. Then he grunted. “I thought you were going to put the plug in me?” he demanded breathlessly. _

_ “Sorry,” Harry said, pulling a hand out to grab the damn thing, “got distracted.” _

_ “I’ll give you something to get distracted ab—” Draco started. And then Harry pressed the plug against his arsehole, pushed it into him, and Draco’s words got lost in another, more desperate moan as he was stretched open. _

_ Using Draco’s wand, Harry cast a tissue and cleaned the excess of lube from Draco’s cleft before pulling Draco’s pants up and letting his robes fall back down to his ankles. _

_ “Okay?” Harry asked, hands resting on Draco’s shoulders, body pressed against Draco’s back. When Draco nodded, slowly adjusting to the feeling, Harry let his hands slide down his arms to embrace him. The bulge of Draco’s half-hard cock was obvious under Harry’s clasped hands, and the contact made him shiver, which in turn made Harry chuckle in his ear. _

_ “Hey,” Harry murmured, “I want this to be okay for you at all moments.” _

_ “Me too, but I’m pretty sure that goes without saying.” _

_ Harry kissed the shell of his ear, then retreated—prodded at Draco to turn so they were face to face. _

_ It took all the sanity Draco had left not to snog the smiley idiot senseless and screw the stupid family dinner ahead or them. _

_ “Tap my hand under the table every now and then,” Harry said. “One tap means you want to go on. Two taps and I stop. Okay?” _

_ “You’re a sap, you know that?” _

_ Harryʼs grin widened. “Only for you, you charming idiot.” _

_ Draco caved in and kissed the sap’s stupid mouth. _

_ “Just…” Draco mumbled into the kiss. “Just make sure I don’t jump down their throats tonight. Either they come around, or…I’m not going to sit around for another year waiting for them to pull their heads out of their arses. But I don’t want to fight them, either. It’s…it’s not worth it.” _

_ “Okay,” Harry murmured. “Okay, love.” _

The rest of the dinner went on mostly in silence. At some point, Harry told Narcissa about Andromedaʼs vegetable garden as Lucius and Draco looked at each other—with disappointment, with pleading. With disgust. When Harry eventually got the plug to vibrate again, no doubt to prevent Draco from blowing up at his father, Draco tapped his hand twice under the table, only to regret the sudden lack of stimulation and tap him again once, but gentler—holding Harryʼs hand in his and caressing his knuckles to get the point across. 

Sure enough, after shooting him a dubious look, Harry made the plug vibrate again, but only ever so slightly, only just enough to keep Draco from going mad. And when, a moment later, the elves brought the dessert and Harry tentatively, hand over Dracoʼs on his knee, made the plug twitch again, Draco promptly decided he wanted this stupid dinner to be over. 

“I take it we wonʼt need to worry about your seats on the banquet, then,” he said, waving off the elf trying to serve him a mince pie. 

Even though heʼd been looking directly at his father, it was his mother who replied. “We want you to be happy, Draco. But you need to understand, there are things that we just canʼt accept—” 

“Except you could,” Draco cut her. “You could, if you were willing to try. The same way you could have protected me instead of putting me in harmʼs way at sixteen. But itʼs never about me, is it? Itʼs always about what everyone else thinks of us. Of _ you_. And if it comes at my expense, then so be it.”

“Oh, please, donʼt act like you understand what youʼre talking about,” his father suddenly snapped. “How do you think the world works? Do you really believe that you can just avoid everything that makes you unhappy or uncomfortable? Life is _ hard_, Draco. Youʼll come back crying to us when you finally realise it is.” 

Clenching his jaw, Draco kept himself from reminding his father he was the one responsible for Draco knowing exactly how hard life could be; that he’d never, ever trust them with a problem again. Instead, he relaxed his shoulders, exhaled, and turned to Harry.

“Are you finished, love?” 

Harry swallowed the last of his mince pie and hummed, pushing the chair back.

“Great. We’ll see ourselves out then.” He glanced at his parents over his shoulder. “Thank you. For your hospitality, and for your…_frankness_.” Before they could reply, which Draco doubted would happen anyway, he took Harry’s hand in his and led him out of the dining and through the corridors that led to the front door. 

When he was sure his parents wouldn’t come behind them, though, he stopped in his tracks. He turned to Harry and pushed him against the wall, firmly, but with care. He pressed flush against him, and Harry grabbed his hips as Draco pulled at his infuriating hair and murmured, close to Harry’s ear, “You have no idea how hard I’ve been all night.”

Clearly surprised, Harry pushed at Draco a bit to see his face. “Yeah? You liked my idea, then?” He sounded proud of himself, but mostly worried. Heʼd probably expected Draco to be furious after what his parents had said.

But Draco had decided, somewhere along their way through the corridor, that he wasn’t going to let his parents’ words get to him. He pressed closer to Harry, nuzzling his cheek, and hummed by way of an answer, kissing Harry’s tentative smile—kissing Harry slowly, sweetly, as he rocked against him, pulling at Harry’s hair the way he knew Harry liked it. Then he kissed his way down Harry’s cheek, down to his neck. “I may even have come up with an idea of my own.” 

“Oh?” Harry sounded breathless already. 

“Mmhm,” Draco replied casually, holding Harry by the hips. “Unless you want to go home already…”

“I don’t know if I like that naughty tone of yours, Draco Malfoy,” Harry chuckled, but then gasped and squeezed Draco’s bum when Draco scraped his teeth against his neck. The plug twitched just then, and Draco wondered whether Harry had done it on purpose or his arousal had caused his control over the plug to slip. Now that would be an interesting turn of events. He bit down at Harry’s neck again, and, indeed, the plug shifted again as Harry said, breathless, “_Ahh_, fuck. Tell me what you have in mind.”

Still holding Harry close to him, Draco reached blindly for the stone wall. “Allow me to show you.”

They stumbled through the trap door and into a much narrower, much darker corridor, Draco holding a caught-off-guard Harry so he wouldn't fall on his arse. When the door closed again, a bunch of torches lit up, illuminating the cramped set of stairs ahead of them.

“I like where this is going,” Harry whispered, stepping forward to press Draco against the wall in turn. The idiot had always had an affinity for secret corridors, Draco knew. He let himself be kissed for a few moments, rutting against Harry again, getting lost in the feeling of Harry’s familiar body pressed flush against his, in the familiar slide of their tongues. But then he broke the kiss, pushing at Harry’s chest again—taking his hand. 

“Come on,” he said, walking towards the stairs. 

“Where are we…?” 

“You’ll see.” 

Draco stopped halfway up the stairs to glance both ways at an intersection with another corridor, making sure no one was around. He knew the house-elves often used the passages to move around the Manor. He smirked at Harry over his shoulder and said, playfully, “Be quiet.”

But then he saw the shift in Harry’s expression. He turned fully, cupped Harry’s face. “Hey,” he breathed. “We’re safe, love. No one ever walks these passages or the part of the mansion weʼre headed to anymore. If anyone saw us, it’d be the house elves, and we can just _ Confundo _ them.”

They’d gone on a bunch of silly adventures together through the years, and if Draco’d learnt something from them, it was that the thrill of being caught was never a positive experience for Harry. Brought back too many memories, Harry had explained.

“Right.” Harry smiled, and Draco kissed his lips before pulling at him again. 

They made their way through the intricate passages within the walls of the manor—through empty hallways, through secret doors behind dormant portraits, until Draco finally pushed open the door to his old bedroom, ushering Harry in. 

It looked pretty much the same as when he’d left it, except without his robes hanging from the bedposts—without at least five pairs of shoes scattered around, without his school books piled on the desk and the floor beside it. He hadn’t stepped foot in it in years, and a dozen memories from that place—memories heʼd carefully kept locked away—made their way through Draco’s mind as passers-by leaving fleeting footprints on the sand. 

He turned to Harry. He remembered wondering, so many times during his teenage years, how Harry would look inside his room. How he’d fit inside those walls, what his expression, what his words would be.

Of course, the first thought his mind provided upon seeing Harryʼs curious expression was none other than _ gorgeous_. 

“Is this…” Harry started, turning his gaze from the room to Draco.

Draco stepped closer to him. Grabbed his collar. “Harry,” he murmured, in much the same way he had so many times in that very room, so long ago now.

_ Harry_, he’d said, aged twelve, sat on his bed, touching his fingertips to his own palm, pretending it was Harry’s touch caressing him gently, then firmly—holding Draco’s hand in his as though to prove a point. 

_ Harry_, he’d gasped, aged fifteen, his face buried in his pillow, his voice muffled, as his fisted hand flew over his cock, desperate, fast. 

_ Harry_, he’d tasted the name on his lips once again, aged seventeen, as he traced the pink scars on his chest. The sorrow hadn’t hidden the tenderness he’d always heard in his own voice when he murmured that name in secret. Not even then.

He shook off the memories as strong hands held him close to the body of the man he loved—as Harry asked him, eyes dark, “Yeah?”

“Take me to bed.”

With a hitch of a breath, Harry lifted him, and Draco wound his legs around Harry’s waist as he walked them both backwards to the bed. Draco pulled his wand from his holster and cast a locking and a silencing charm on the door, on the walls of the room—then dropped the wand on the bedside table as Harry sat on the bed, Draco on top of him.

“You look happy,” Harry pointed out with a smile, brushing Draco’s hair away from his face.

Adjusting his posture, Draco raked his hands over Harry’s chest. “You don’t know the amount of times I used to fantasise about you on this very bed.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose, a smile growing on his face. “Any chance youʼre gonna tell me? Because Iʼd like to know.”

With a low snort, Draco lifted Harry’s shirt, idly tracing the shape of his stomach, his waist, his ribs. “At first they were just fantasies about you and me hanging out together, you know? You’d come here over the summer holidays and we’d play Quidditch together, and then, at night, we’d both sit on my bed and play exploding snap, and you’d laugh at my jokes, and you’d feel so lucky to call yourself my friend.” Harry’s chuckle turned into a small gasp when Draco circled his nipple as he played with the line of curly hair at the centre of Harry’s chest. “Then,” Draco went on, “when I was a little bit older, I imagined us sitting here, too, but we’d be so close we were almost touching, and talking in hushed tones, and—” 

Harry exhaled shakily and brought the pads of two fingers to Draco’s cheek, still listening. Draco pinched his nipple, his gaze fixed on the way Harry was biting at his lip.

“And then we’d…look at each other, and the conversation would die down, and for a moment we wouldn’t know what to do, but then you’d…” Harry held Draco’s head and started leaving a trail of kisses across his cheek. The plug started moving again, slowly. “You’d…touch my hand. You’d look me in the eye, and lean forward, and youʼd _ kiss _ me. I’d be breathless and dizzy, so Iʼd close my eyes and open up to it, and you’d…hold my head in your grip…” He exhaled when the plug picked up the pace, pressing against his prostate more firmly. “And when I allowed myself to let the fantasies go further, I’d push you back against the pillows and deepen the kisses, and the kisses would turn into…” He rocked his hips forward a bit as if to explain. With a groan, Harry dropped back onto the mattress, bringing Draco with him—kissing Draco’s mouth as he held onto his hips, encouraging him to keep moving. 

Draco kissed back, eagerly, almost desperately as the plug—the entirety of the plug, this time—started vibrating inside him. With a groan, Harry pulled up Draco’s robes, then pushed his hands down Draco’s pants and grabbed his arse cheeks, spreading them open as he fondled them. His fingertips were so close to Draco’s rim that the movement made the sensitive skin there stretch open, and the vibrations of the plug seemed to expand through all of him, sending spikes of pleasure right to his cock. 

When Harry found the base of the plug, though, Draco pulled back from the kiss, breathless, to say, “Wait, don’t pull it out.” 

“Mmm?” Harry looked at him, confused, dazed, but then Draco’s words seemed to get to him. “You don’t want me to fuck you?”

“Correct.” Draco traced the shape of Harry’s sides up to his armpits—then his pecs, teasing his nipples with the balls of his palms. “I want to fuck you,” he said, low, leaning close to Harry as he pinched his nipples, “while you fuck me with the plug. Can we do that?” 

“Oh, god,” Harry exhaled. “Yeah. Definitely, yeah.”

Draco smirked. “Turn on your stomach, then.” 

When Harry complied, Draco helped him pile a few cushions under his body to bring his arse up. Then he brought his hands to the hem of Harry’s trousers and draped himself on top of Harry, nipping at his ear as he teased his bum. When Harry gasped at the first lick of his earlobe, snapping his hips against the cushions, Draco chuckled. “Eager much? Because I’ll let you know, I plan on taking my time with you, Scarhead.”

Harry’s breathless, comfortable laughter made Draco’s chest fill with a familiar kind of happiness, and he kissed the idiot’s hair; his nape, his shoulder, still messily playing with the hem of his trousers between their bodies.

“You’re such an idiot,” Harry said, “and I’m so in love with you.”

“Really?” Draco teased. “I never would have guessed!” They laughed again as Draco pressed chaste kisses on every inch, on every nook of Harry’s skin within his reach. 

When his laughter died down, Draco found himself smiling like a goof as he practically melted into Harry. 

It was just so easy, being in love with him.

He gave the curve of that neck a last nip and, as he pushed back to tuck his hands under Harry and undo his fly, he murmured, “Make me feel good, Harry.”

Harryʼs reply was a breathless, “Mhmm.”

Draco pushed down Harryʼs trousers along with his pants. Harry kicked off his shoes and pulled his sweater and shirt off, and as Draco unbuttoned his robes in haste, Harry turned to look at him, glasses askew, lips parted in a dazed smile.

“Aren’t you going to take those off?” Draco asked as he took off his robes and then his shoes and pants, eyes on Harry’s curved back; on his broad shoulders, on his propped-up arse.

“In a moment,” Harry replied, “wanna watch.”

“Is that so?” Draco rested his hands on Harry’s buttocks, enjoying the change in texture between the smoother sides of his hips and the thick hair that covered his cleft, turning finer as it spread through the rest of his cheeks. Harry’s gaze fell to Draco’s hard cock, darkening, and the plug started moving again, steadily, as he said:

“Yeah.”

Draco’s cock twitched under Harry’s stare. “Well, you can try, I guess,” he said casually, then leaned down to whisper against Harryʼs arse cheek. “But I think you're getting a bit too old to flex enough to see what I'm about to do.” 

“Twenty-six isn’t _ old_,” Harry complained as Draco retreated with a peck. 

Draco didn’t reply. Instead, he grabbed his wand from the nightstand, a hand still on Harry’s arse for leverage, and cast a cleaning, then a protection charm on Harry’s cleft, covering the skin from his cheeks to his perineum with a thin, unnoticeable magical barrier. The plug gave an especially strong twitch that went right to Draco’s prostate as Harry let out a small sound of realisation—a sound that ended in a high note when Draco rested the wand on the bed and spread him open, leaning to kiss his buttock again. He sucked and licked his way down Harryʼs bum, unhurried, and he soon heard the clattering sound of glasses being dropped on wood, the plug twitching and twitching as Harry groaned into the pillow, desperate to have Dracoʼs mouth where he wanted it. 

Draco spread him further and pressed the tip of a finger to Harryʼs rim, slipping further down to lap at his perineum—to tease his balls with his tongue and take them in his mouth. 

The plug started to grow. 

He’d completely forgotten the plug could change sizes. He faltered for a second, short of breath, as Harry stretched him open, and then groaned around Harryʼs balls, letting go of them to press his tongue to Harryʼs perineum as he lapped upwards. Moving his finger, he traced the outside of Harryʼs rim with the tip of his tongue. 

“_Lord_,” Harry gasped, and Draco wet his tongue and pressed the tip of it to the centre of Harryʼs rim, keeping still for a moment but then undulating, flicking the tip of it. He spread Harry open and lapped at him, gently at first, then pushed his tongue against Harryʼs rim several times in quick succession as if to break in. 

Harry writhed, and moaned, and shivered. The plug continued to grow steadily. It felt almost as wide as a cock now, and it was longer than before, too. He released a puff of air against Harryʼs arse cheek, his hips snapping backwards on their own accord. When he tongued Harryʼs arsehole again, the plug twitched, and the new, increased sensation was so overwhelming he started rutting into the bed, his cock achingly hard and desperately in need of stimulation. 

“Fuck,” Harry groaned into the pillow. And again, voice shaking, “_Fuck_,” as he searched blindly for Draco’s wrist and then his hand. When Draco looked up, he saw Harry had turned and twisted a bit as if to look at him, as if to be closer to him, even though his eyes were closed, his jaw slack as he caught his breath. 

He took Harry’s hand in his, traced the shape of his knuckles with a thumb, and sunk down again. Or tried to. “I can’t—I’m gonna need you to hold yourself open for me if you want me to—” 

Harry gripped both his cheeks and pulled them apart, roughly. _ Impatiently. _ It made Draco shiver. Shiver from arousal, from want. From trust, and intimacy, and a bunch of feelings he could barely care to tell apart as he rested his hands on Harry’s and worked his tongue inside him again. 

If he’d had any doubts about whether the plug was reacting to Harry’s arousal, they vanished the moment Harry’s rim fluttered around his tongue, shyly letting him in. Harry whined deliciously, loudly, and the plug _ pulled out_. Entirely on its own, it pulled out of Draco almost to its tip, and before Draco could scramble for it, thinking maybe it was slipping out despite the thin shape of its neck, it started to push back in. 

Draco’s breath hitched. He moaned, and had to press his forehead against Harry’s lower back and grip Harry’s calves for leverage as he gasped for air. 

As Harry fucked into him. 

“When I said,” he panted, “when I told you to fuck me with the plug, I didn’t remember it could actually—” 

“Want me to stop?” Harry asked, equally breathless in a manner that made Draco wonder how it felt to be in control of the plug. Did Harry know exactly where it was, what it was doing? Could he feel where exactly it was touching, and pressing, and stretching? 

“_No_, Merlin, don’t stop, just— more lube—” 

“Mmm. Come here.” Harry turned further around to grab Draco’s wrists, Draco’s shoulders, messily helping him up until he was kneeling right over Harry’s bum. Harry’s legs slipped from Draco’s back, his foot curling around Draco’s ankle. Harry scrambled for Draco’s wand, and a moment later Draco was slick. 

The plug—the dildo, more like—pulled out again as Draco pulled a few hairs out of his mouth—as he cast lube and smeared it over his cock, then cleaned his fingers against the crease of Harry’s arse.

He brought the tip of his cock to Harry’s rim and rested it there, feeling the way Harryʼs body was twitching for him; begging for him. With his other hand, he traced the fleeting marks Harryʼd left on his own arse. Traced the soft valley of his lower back; the dimples, the hair cascading downwards. The solitary mole decorating his slim waist. He drew the shape of Harry’s shoulder blades, their sharp edges and the sunken space between them as Harry rested his weight on his elbows, looking back at Draco. There was hair there, too, almost imperceptible. A small scar from a far-flung battle; one that had taken place far before Harry’d stepped foot in Hogwarts, Draco knew. A few idly-scratched pimples. A white, almost heart-shaped birthmark under his nape.

“Come on, Draco. Love, come on, _ please_—” Harry murmured, a lovely, desperate stream of words, as he tried to push back. But Draco just smiled to himself, dragging his nails down the bumps of Harryʼs column. He needed another moment to breathe. To come down from the haze. To admire the map of stories Harry’s body had told him so many times before, but whose simplicity never seemed to cease to amaze him. 

When he got to the end of Harry's spine, he let his fingertips slide down to the tip of his own cock and pushed the head of it into Harry. 

The entirety of the dildo thrust into him at once, burying itself into him—pushing his body forward as Harry moaned; as Draco mimicked him, loud and unrestrained. 

“_Oh god_,” he spluttered, fingers clutching at the muscles of Harry’s back. “Fucking _ hell_. You’re—_unbelievable_, Merlin, _ fuck_—”

“You’re too _ slow_,” Harry groaned, wiggling his arse, pushing back against Draco’s cock. 

“Says the one who’s been teasing me all night!” 

“Does it look like I’m teasing you _ now_?” 

Draco growled. Gripping both of Harryʼs arse cheeks, spreading them open to get a better view, he started pushing in, slowly, saying, “Lord, you’re infuriating. I can’t believe I love you so fucking much. I—_ah_—I can’t believe I’m fucking you on this _ bed_—” 

The end of his sentence got lost in the long, hoarse whine Harry let out into the pillow. Draco soon found himself out of words too, the plug vibrating in sync with Harryʼs vocal chords. The view before him, Harryʼs arsehole clenching around him, captivating him. 

He pushed all the way in, then bent forward and buried his face in Harry’s hair, pressing him further into the pillow of his childhood bed. 

He still couldn’t believe they were having sex in that bed.

“I love you,” he growled into Harry’s hair, retreating with a sonorous kiss. And then he curled his fingers around Harry’s hips, steadied himself on his knees, and started thrusting.

The dildo started fucking him. He cried out, head falling forward. He gripped Harry harder and rode him hard and fast for a few moments, but then faltered again with a hitch of a breath when the dildo picked up, thrusting relentlessly too. As though it was starting to mimic him; to fuck into him at the same pace as he was fucking Harry. 

“Are you—_mmh_—doing that on purpose?”

Harry turned his head to the side—gave Draco a lopsided grin, deformed as his cheek got buried on the pillow. “Dʼyou like it?” 

Draco just hissed, gripping a fistful of Harry’s hair and pulling at it as he pressed down with his hand; as he slowed down his thrusts, putting more meaning into each one, bottoming out with each one. 

Harry’s expression contorted with pleasure, only a slot of white showing in between his eyelids. His shins moved up Draco’s calves as he shivered, and their leg hair scratching together sent a shiver of pleasure through Draco. 

“I really love you like this,” he said, allowing his grip on Harry’s hair to soften—raking his fingers through the strands. 

Harry was releasing slow pants against the pillow when he cracked an eye open and smiled, cheeky. “Don’t you always love me?” 

“Wouldn’t you like that,” Draco teased even as he smiled back; as he cupped Harry’s head. “I’m marrying you for the sex, I’ll have you know.” 

“Mmhm.” Harry’s chuckle turned into a sigh, then into a whine as Draco fucked into him hard and fast once more. 

Just as he’d expected, the dildo took a moment to catch up and do the same to him. An unimportant detail, really, but one that had him biting back a smile as he clenched around damn thing—as he skittered close to the edge, Harry tight and slick around him. 

Harry pushed back into his next thrusts— slid a hand under himself, arm moving fast as he touched himself. 

“I wanna see,” Draco said, pulling out. “Turn around, I wanna see.” 

Harry complied with a grunt as he flopped on his back on the cushions, pulling Draco close again. “Next time _ I _ get to see though,” he murmured, his words ending in a sob as Draco pushed inside him again. “Wanna see how—how you look as I fuck you with the—_oh god _ —_ah_, with the plug.” 

Draco held up Harry’s knees and fucked him, hard and fast. The dildo picked up after a moment, and they moaned together, Draco’s eyes fixed on Harry’s cock—on Harry’s hand flying around it, around the flushed curve of it. He bent forward, and Harry met him halfway in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, their puffs of air merging together. 

Harry clutched at Draco’s back with his free hand, writhing, and Draco, skittering close to the edge again, fucked Harry faster, burying his face in Harry’s shoulder—letting go, coming, faltering in his thrusts as the dildo tore moan after moan from him with every thrust. 

After the day they’d had, letting go of his parents’ words, of the looks of their faces, and melting into pleasure, into _ Harry_, felt like a totally new kind of release.

“_Mhh_, fuck, Harry, end the spell, take it—” he gasped, hazy, when he came down from his orgasm and it started to hurt. When Harry didn’t catch his words straight away, he pulled out the plug himself and dropped it on the bed, watching as it kept moving. 

Merlin, watching it move outside of him shouldn’t have been so arousing. 

“Don’t stop,” Harry pleaded, hands coming to Draco’s hair as he tried to buck his hips. Draco pulled out of him, overstimulated, and Harry clutched at his hair, pushed him down; down, until Draco was messily kissing his way down Harry’s sternum. Down until he could swipe a long line up Harry’s shaft before taking him into his mouth. He bobbed his head, sucking on retreat. 

“_Yes_,” Harry moaned, directing Draco’s head with a strong, desperate grip as Draco raked his fingers down and trailed them around Harry’s now puffed rim. He felt the way his come was leaking out, rolling down his still slick crease. 

He pushed some of the slickness up with a fingertip and pushed it back inside Harry, fingering him—first with one finger, then pushing in a second one easily. He curled them, pulling out and pushing in, and only remembered he needed to keep bobbing his head when Harry bucked into his mouth. Harry pulled at his hair, writhing, groaning and then crying out as he reached the edge, his hips staggering as he came. Draco sucked him through it, movements slowing down alongside Harryʼs moans, and Harryʼs thighs trembled and clenched, circling Draco’s shoulders in a strong grip.

When Draco sat back on his knees, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth and catching his breath, his eyes were dragged to the dildo. It was still moving—apparently coming down from whatever it’d been doing a moment before alongside Harry’s pleasure. 

Harry took Draco’s hand in his, spreading his fingers, thumbing his palm, and Draco turned his gaze to him. Eyes half-lidded, hair mussed, and jaw slack as he gave him a lazy, content smile; the state Harry always ended up in after sex was one of Draco’s favourite sights to behold. He crawled up when Harry pulled at his hand a bit, draping himself atop Harry’s warm chest, knees on either side of Harryʼs hips, and catching his lips in a leisurely kiss as Harry cupped his cheek, brushing a thumb to his cheekbone, stroking his hair. 

He eventually rested his head on Harry’s shoulder as Harry conjured a damp cloth and cleaned Draco’s fingers with great care, wiping the space between them, the underside of Draco’s nails. Then he cleaned himself—his wilting cock, his cleft. Draco helped him reach his rim as the last of the come slid out of him, and Harry handed him another cloth to clean himself. 

“Hey, donʼt doze off,” Harry murmured with a chuckle a few moments later, when Draco hid his face in the nook of Harry’s throat. “We can’t just stay here.” 

“Mmm. No one will find us,” Draco slurred, hugging Harry’s chest tighter. 

“Our Christmas presents are home, though.” 

Draco groaned. That was a good point. Still, he curled himself around Harry and stayed there a moment longer before he begrudgingly sat up. He squinted down at a smiling Harry. “I hate you,” he grumbled as he looked around for his clothes. 

Harry faked a gasp, bringing a hand to his chest. “How shall I survive the heartache!” 

They got dressed. Harry cast a _ Finite _ and the plug shrunk down to its normal size. A short stream of charms and the bedsheets were straightened, the cushions back in place, the window open to air out the smell of their sex. 

Draco stood behind Harry, a hand rested on his lower back. After surveying their surroundings one last time, Harry tucked his wand in his pocket and turned around on Draco’s embrace, cupping his cheeks, burying his fingers in Draco’s hair—kissing him. Draco opened up to it, stepping forward to press Harry against the bedpost, sliding his tongue over Harry’s lips and into his mouth, making him groan softly and press closer to Draco. 

“Are we gonna have to do the whole ninja thing again to get out?” Harry said, his smile grazing Draco’s lips with his every word. 

“I suppose so. Unless you can come up with an alternative…” 

Harry cackled, pressed his forehead to Draco’s. He stepped around him, walked to the corner of Draco’s room.

To Draco’s old Nimbus 2001.

“I may have a few ideas,” he said, a silly, proud smile on his face.

Draco snorted. “Of course you do.” He walked to Harry, brushed some of the dust from the broomstick with his fingers. “But are you going to be able to ride a broom right after sex?”

“Are _ you_?” Harry teased. “We only have to fly till the edge of the anti-Apparition wards. Besides…” He took Draco’s hand in his. Turned around the ring on his finger with two fingertips. “Seeing as I’m going to marry Draco Malfoy, I think I can handle pretty much anything.”

“Are you implying marrying me is going to be a pain in the arse?” 

“Are you implying you don’t _ love _being a pain in the arse?”

Draco pressed a chuckle, then a kiss to Harry’s throat, resting his cheek on Harry’s shoulder. “You’re so insufferable.”

_ “Ready?” _

_ Draco finished fixing Harry’s collar, avoiding his worried gaze for a moment, then giving in with a sigh. “As I’ll ever be,” he replied, brushing a lint from Harry’s shoulder, then allowing himself to rest his cheek there for a moment. _

_ Harry cupped his head with a careful hand so as not to disarrange his hair. His other hand found Draco’s and he circled the ring on Draco’s finger just as he made the plug inside him twitch. A reminder. _

_ Then he pushed at Draco gently and took his hand, reaching for the door handle. “Let’s go.” _

“Maybe so,” Harry said against Draco’s hair. “But that’s why we make such a good couple.”

Draco huffed, stepping back after a moment. “Shall we go home?”

Harry walked to the window to open it all the way, then sat on the far end of the broom. He gestured at the front of it, smiled at Draco. “Lead the way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Even if this is an old fic, kudos, comments and bookmarks are still incredibly appreciated! ❤️


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